One Big Whoop
All over the world
folks die every day
by the thousands
sometimes the millions
what with wars
earthquakes
seiches and
tsunamis
and so He’s busy
saying hello to those
who have known
He was there
or discovered Him
just before the end
often out of fear
but can you imagine
those who thought
He wasn’t there?
What a surprise!
One big whoop
for those folks.
Let’s be candid.
Death is bad enough.
But who wants
to find Him too late
glowing in the Light
taller than His statue
in Rio de Janeiro
then see Him point,
then hear Him say,
“Please step
over there.”
A Chance to Say Good-bye
After World War II
before television,
before women had tattoos
before men wore earrings,
I was a child in a world
with kids as odd as me.
I’m still here but tell me
where are they?
Remember Joey Joey
who yelped in class
every day before
doctors knew the nature
of his problem, his
barbaric yawps scaring girls
and driving boys down
on their desks laughing
until the day he disappeared.
I had no chance to say good-bye.
Can’t forget Petey, the toughest kid
in class, not quite right either.
He uppercut a girl in the third row
and disappeared the same day.
So did Bobby, who my mother saw
on his porch eating worms
one by one off a porcelain dish
as she was coming home from church
under a parasol, stylish in that era.
She asked if Bobby and I were friends
and I said, “Bobby Who?"
I had no chance to say good-bye.
But Jimmy was the nonpareil
when it came to kids not right.
I saw him after graduation leap-frog
parking meters like a kangaroo
down 63rd Street for half a block
woofing as he cleared them
until the cops took him home.
I had no chance to say good-bye.
They locked Jimmy in the attic
of his parents’ house for years
but at least he didn’t disappear.
Years later I saw him in a dark bar
with his twin brother drinking beer.
He sat quietly, not a single woof,
not a bar stool threatened by a leap.
There I had a chance to say good-bye.
Marbles
When you get old
it’s nice to have all your marbles
even if you can’t count them
even if they look the same color
even if you can no longer hear them
bounce off each other when your son
brings your grandson over
and he shoots marbles all over
the house and they careen
like your thoughts this morning
as you try to recall where you put
the marbles after the boy went home
and you get down on your hands
and knees and feel around and find them
so when the boy comes over again
you can hand him the marble bag
because your son just called
and the boy will be here in an hour
laughing and shouting and wanting
to shoot marbles all over the house
like heads rolling in Syria and Iraq.
———————————————————
Donal Mahoney lives in St. Louis, Missouri.
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